Cold hands warm farts
by Meggin Lane
Summary: When Dean gets frighteningly cold Sam discovers that sometimes natures supplies all you need in a crisis to keep him warm until help arrives. Sam, Dean and Bobby. This was inspired by outtakes of when Jensen and Jared get into close quarters.


Cold hands warm farts

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just love em, wish ta hell I worked for Kripke

When Dean gets frighteningly cold Sam discovers that sometimes natures supplies all you need in a crisis to keep him warm until help arrives. Sam, Dean and Bobby.

Two things inspired this, the word challenge 'blanket' and a funny out take video of Jared and Jensen in close quarters.

wWw

It was because Sam had been running a fever that Dean told him to stand on the edge of the icy river and wait there while he went to get the shotgun that dangled from the branch over the rushing water.

Moments before they had both been on the cliff above. The Haint that had been luring lovers off its edge and to their deaths in the rapids below, had just been dispatched but in the struggle Dean had lost his grip on the shotgun and it had fallen over below into a tangle of branches overhanging the deadly waters.

They had picked their way down the narrow rock strewn tail to the shore of the river when Dean groused as he stepped onto the first slippery stepping stone, "You shouldn't have even left the motel room."

"Yeah, amb ib I hadn't been here your sorry ass would hab been bpitched ober da edge ibstead of da shot gun." Sam pointed out thickly through his clogged vocal cords.

Dean eyed several boulders that reached below the tree and just below the hanging gun. As he stepped onto the first slick stone he immediately lost his balance and pin wheeled his arms frantically before gaining his footing just in time.

"Dean!" Sam croaked in panic and moved reach out to him.

Dean righted himself and his surprised expression instantly turned to a frown at Sam. "Don't!" he commanded. "You fall in and you'll get pneumonia, I can do this..." then his frown softened to a smirk. "I was just testing the slipperiness."

Sam shoved his cold hands back into the deep pockets of his jacket and said sullenly, "Lembe guess...it's slippery."

Dean inhaled and extended his arms out for balance like a tight ropewalker and began to carefully place his weight onto the next rock. Ball of the foot, then carefully the heel. One foot down, he shifted his weight slowly and brought his other leg up, when both feet were on the rock he left out a puff of breath that hung like smoke in the air. Damn! It was cold for November in these parts. He chanced a glance back at Sam on the shoreline and saw that he was nearly folded over on himself trying to keep warm.

"Just be a moment Sammy, try to hang in there." Dean tried to say cheerily.

When he only got a muffled groan of a reply he vowed to hustle it up...as best he could, 'Damed slippery rocks!'

He made it to the branch that clutched the hilt of the gun and it took him a minute to untangle it from the fine tendrils of twigs at the tip of the limb. "Man, it's like the tree is tryin' to hold on to it Sam, just a sec...There got it!" Dean said, and then he yelled, "Catch!" and tossed the shotgun to Sam who caught it one handed.

"Jeez Dean!" Sam sputtered as he got both hands on the weapon and checked it for live ammo. One shot left, that was too reckless even for Dean. "You coulda killed bme bman!"

"Naw, you got receivers hands Sammy, you'da never dropped..."

Suddenly a branch swung out like it had been stuck and just now sprung free and a long tendril wrapped around Dean's leg and whipped him off the rock into the icy black water.

Sam cocked the shotgun and fired at the body of the tree. And an eerie keening emitted from it. He heard his brothers gargled voice once and watched in horror as the lumpy form of the brown leather jacket bobbed and then was submerged by more tendrils pressing it down into the churning waters.

"DEAN!!!"

Ignoring the icy bite of the frigid water he waded up to the tree and plunged the demon killing knife deep into it's bark, it sunk surprisingly deep and the tree became alive with writhing, snapping, whip like tendrils.

Sam ducked the sting of branches that beat against his face as he grabbed Dean's body and pulled his brothers face out of the water. Dean gasped and sputtered a ton of fluid from his mouth while Sam cut him free from the clutching vine-like vices that tried to drown him.

Then as quickly as the tree had been animated it began to die. The tendrils became stiff and woody and the branch snapped that held Dean until finally Sam was able to pull him free.

"Wha..wah...wa the hell was that?" Dean stammered as he tried to stand but could not seem to find his legs.

Sam had an arm around him and was half leading and half dragging them both back to shore. "I think they worked as a team to kill those kids" Sam panted.

"What, the ghost and a tree?" Dean said and stumbled almost to his knees.

Sam got him just before he face planted in the muck of the shoreline. "I don't think it was just a 'tree' Dean.

"No shit, so it was... what...pppossessed or somthin?"

"Sort of, I think it was haunted by the spirit of the lover that the Haint killed herself for all those years ago."

"So, the lovers that slay together stay t-t-together?" Dean hissed then his body finally succumbed to the cold and he closed his eyes and slumped over.

"Dean!" Sam tried to wake him but Dean was sodden dead weight in Sam's arm. The struggle hadn't taken long but it had sapped all of Dean's energy and now he was in serious risk of hypothermia.

Sam looked around them. They were alone, it was freezing and he was just about spent too, he could feel a familiar wooziness cloud his brain and he knew his fever had spiked up a notch. Just as he was looking up the narrow treacherous path that led back up to the car Dean was wracked by the first of violent shivers that hypothermia victims experience as their core body temp drops dangerously low.

There was no way around it, if Sam couldn't get them both to the relative safety of the car they could die out here. He looked down at his brother once more; the shivering was slowing to a steady shaking. He braced himself and huffed a white plume of breath then grabbed Dean up and over his shoulders in a fireman's rescue position. Slowly he picked his way between ankle twisting rocks back up to the car taking care to keep his balance under the weight of his brothers shuddering form.

He got Dean in the passenger's side and bundled him up in the car blanket they always kept in the trunk. Cranking the heat up he made it back to the motel room in record time. Sam barely got Dean into the room before he sunk to his knees himself and blackness enveloped him.

wWw

Later Sam opened his eyes. The musty motel carpet didn't soften the hardness of the floor he was lying on very much. It took a few minutes of blinking at the body sprawled in front of him to recognize it as Dean.

Sam's fever fuzzy brain thought 'why is Dean wet and on the floor?' Then 'why am I on the floor?' Sam crawled over to his brother and put his hand on his face to tap it, "Hey, Dean wake up!" But the skin he touched was ice cold and suddenly to Sam's eyes Dean didn't look so good.

It came back to him. The fight in the water, Dean was under for so long, he was so cold. "I need to warm you up Dean." Sam said more to himself than to the cold, still form on the floor.

"Sssmmy?" Dean barely moved his blue lips. "Get ta bed or yool get pnemonia" That last part was barely said in a whisper.

"Dean! Yer back!" Sam scrambled to get all of himself up off the floor but his long body seemed to have other ideas. His first push off with one arm crumpled under his own weight and he crashed back down on top of his brother. Dean's body made a wet sounding smush as it was pressed into the carpet and a garbled groan escaped his lips.

"Sorry, sorry." Sam gasped as he pried himself off Dean. His own clothes were wet from having carried Dean up the hill and from the car to the room and he was freezing from the contact so the first priority he had was to be get the wet things off Dean and start warming him up.

He kneeled over Dean and gently rolled his unconscious brother's body to one side. He fought the numbness of his own fumbling fingers as he tried to pull one sleeve of the leather jacket off Deans limp arm. He rolled Dean back toward him and started to jerk the sleeve off the other arm when his mind drifted to this somehow feeling familiar.

He remembered drills their father had put them through when they were kids in the safety of one of their ratty old hotel rooms. They took turns standing in the shower with their clothes on under a blast of cold water and dad timed them as one of them lay still while the other struggled to peel them out of their wet clothes down to their under wear and then drag them back in the shower for a warm spray. It was to train them to keep each other safe from the deadly grip of hypothermia if a cold weather hunt went bad.

Dean always caught hell from dad cause he'd tickle him while pretending to take the wet clothes off. It didn't fool dad one bit when his older brother tried telling him Sammy wasn't giggling it was delirium and all the while Sam remembered trying to mask the squirming from Dean's tickles as just 'shivering'. When it was Sam's turn to try to get the wet clothes off Dean, his brother would go completely limp. Wet, cold, dead weight and he remembered how he would cuss and fume at him to help him by moving just a little, but Dean would put on this eerie ghost voice and tell him. "I caaaann't Sammy, I'm at deeeaaaths dooor, you have to moooove my arrrms N'legggs fooooor me!" And he remembered how he would go to bed all achy and sore from having to peel the sodden shirts and pants off his heavier brother then drag his sorry ass to the shower. God he'd hated that drill more than any, it had always seemed to be such a pointless pain in the ass.

But he was glad for it now.

By the time he'd finished replaying the memory of those training days in his head Sam had gotten all of Deans sodden shirts off him and had un buttoned and unzipped the soaked jeans. He was about to shimmy them down from the waist when Dean began to wake up.

"Ffffuckin' doin'?" Dean stuttered as he tried to focus his eyes on the blurry form looming over his legs.

"Dean! Glad yer back, now bmove your ass so I can get your bpants off."

Dean attempted to slap Sam's hands off the grip of his jeans. "Ffucking leave 'em."

"Can't Dean they 're wet, you remember falling in the water?" Sam asked

"No."

"Well you did and you got soaked and you're freezing."

"Well, lemme take mmmmy own damn pppants off" Dean grumbled.

Sam sat back on his knees and put his hands on his hips and looked down at his sodden stubborn brother. "Okay, try."

Dean paused. Suddenly his arms wouldn't work to move his hands to the waistband of his jeans. He heaved a sigh and with a mighty effort grabbed the wet material and tied to push it down. But it was stuck fast to his cold wet skin like it had been glued there. He tried to lift his hips up and will the pants to slide down but nothing happened. He felt stiff and weak and chilled to the bone.

He looked up to see Sam blink worriedly at him. "Can't." was all he said before he passed out again.

Sam reached down and tapped Dean's face, gently at first-nothing, then he gave him a quick slap.

"Huh, wha?" Dean's unfocused eyes opened for a minute.

"I'm bpullin the bpants off now, hold on to yer shorts."

"Kay" Dean answered and weakly grasped the elastic band on his boxers. It took Sam three mighty tugs to peel the wet jeans off of Dean's legs and by the time they were off Dean had dropped his hands from his shorts in unconsciousness again.

'Just as well,' Sam thought darkly, 'neither of us would want Dean awake for the next part.' They had never rehearsed removing and replacing wet underwear before.

Sam braced himself and got Dean back in the fireman's hold and gently as he could lifted him up and then laid him down on the bed by the bathroom. When Sam stood up again he nearly swooned from the head rush as the fever shuddered through him. He shakily turned and went to fetch towels to dry Dean down with. As he grabbed the towels from the bathroom he cursed himself that it had been his idea to go with this camp like motel that boasted "no hot water till spring" because it was closer to the hunt and Dean looked tired. Dean wanted to find one that had a hot shower but gave in to Sam's logic of convenience this one time. Sam looked down on the bed at his brothers still, pale form and he shook his head sadly, 'why of all the arguments I've had with you in the past on hunting decisions, why did you give in with me on this one? It could cost you your life in such a stupid way if I can't keep you warm.'

The scratchy un-absorbent material of the towels did a minimal job of picking up the moisture as Sam padded Dean down after removing the wet boxers. As quickly and as respectfully as he could Sam shimmied a new dry pair on. Then Sam moved on to dry Dean's legs; 'the rough rub down would at least stimulate blood flow to his chilled extremities' Sam thought as he moved the material over Dean's unresponsive form.

Once Sam got Dean as dry as he could it was time to find anything that could help warm him up. He took all the blankets off the other bed and piled them on top of Dean.

Then he felt his own energy ebb down another notch as he tried to think of what to do next. He knew he was too weak and muddled to risk driving and he didn't want to leave Dean this cold even for minute. He shuddered with fever once more and suddenly it gave him an idea. Sam had had heard of hunters caught in blizzards bunking together to maximize body temperature so maybe this would work...at least until help could arrive.

'I must have a temp of 103 at least, I'm like a giant hot water bottle. If I can't surround Dean with a wet warm spray of water I can at least surround him as much as I can with M'self and maybe that'll help keep him from slipping further into hypothermia.'

He reached into his pocket and flipped open his phone to an all too familiar speed dial number.

"Bbbobby?" He answered when the phone was picked up.

"Sam? Where are you? Is Dean alright?" The older hunter knew from experience that these two didn't call for just social reasons.

"Nnno, neither am I...we're sick...too sick...need help."

"You just sit tight, what are your symptoms?"

"Me-fever, Dean's got hypothermia I think... fading, need warmth, meds."

"Jeez, you give me the co-ordinates and I'll be right there...Both of you stay warm, ya idjits!"

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't be surprised by what you see."

'Well that little cryptic message didn't bode well' Thought Bobby as the phone connection clicked off.

wWw

Sam looked down at the pile of blankets and knew that somewhere underneath was his hypothermic brother. He remembered the look of Deans blue lips and it made him shudder.

He tried to coax more heat from the camp heater but its futile wheezing brought none forth. So he stripped down to his own boxers and crawled underneath the pile till he found Dean.

He pressed his warm chest up against his brother's cold back and nearly withdrew immediately because of the clammy chill that permeated from his brother's body.

"Jesus Dean!" he gasped and grit his teeth against the sudden cold against his sensitive chest. But it frightened him that Dean laid so still and pliant in his arms.

He wrapped his legs around Dean's lower torso and wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders and pulling him close willed the shared heat of his fever into Dean's cold body.

Sam tried to think of where to place his limbs for the maximum heat exchange to take place. 'If Dean was trying to bring my fever down he'd put cold compresses on my forehead. That's it!' He realized, 'I'll treat Dean's hypothermia like a fever in reverse! And the greatest place of lost body heat is the head! Dean's got a stocking cap somewhere in his duffle.' So Sam eased himself out from under the covers and rummaged around in the duffle until he found it. Then he scrambled back under them and gently pulled the cap over Dean's wet hair.

This time he turned his brother over to face him and put an arm under his. Armpits are another heat exchange place as are groins so he pulled his brothers limp heavy limb tight between his own legs. He put his warm palm over Dean's neck, near enough to the jugular to spread a bit of warmth, he hoped, with every pump of his brother's heart and then he pressed his fevered brow against Dean's cool one and said "I gotcha covered Dean, and I hope you don't beat my ass too much if you wake up first and find us like this...I can explain..."

Then he drifted off into darkness himself.

wWw

The next thing he was aware of was the bright light of day and the sound of wheels rolling softly along the carpet and muttered curses about 'idjits being sleeping beauties'

"Bobby?" he croaked

"Well, it's about time" came the hoarse whisper of their friend.

He was aware of how uncomfortably warm he was and that Dean was still in his arms but instead of silent and limp he was curled up away from him and snoring softly.

"Dean?" he asked of Bobby.

Bobby held up an ear thermometer and huffed, "Almost normal, which for Dean is about as good as it gets."

Sam felt a great weight lift off him and he nearly laughed. Then suddenly someone beside him stirred. And he held his breath.

Dean opened his eyes slowly. As they focused he noticed something was wrong. He could see his bed from where he was and it was empty. Not just empty but the blankets were all torn off and he was suddenly aware of three things A) he very comfortably warm but B) he was naked-nearly. And C) he was not alone.

Bobby cleared his throat and Dean thought, 'This is not good.' As he peered up over the mound of blankets he was met with Sam's worried face sporting a timid smile.

"Dean," Sam began, "I can explain..."

Then Dean realized the naked thigh his was pressed against was not his own and "EWE!" he tried to bolt up but the cold draft that hit his exposed chest made him grab the blankets up to his chin and he glared at his equally nearly naked brother.

"What the FU...!!!!"

"Easy princess," Bobby chimed in, "your virginity's intact."

"Bobby!!??" 'Oh this just gets better and better' scowled Dean. As he stared dumbfounded at the two faces from over the blanket's edge.

Bobby tossed one of his heavy sweatshirts at him and snarled, "Here put this on." And Dean tried to get his stiff arms to maneuver to comply in a hurry.

While he was pulling his head through he heard Bobby tell Sam, "You too." and felt another sweatshirt land softly by Sam. Then he was aware of his brother's movements as he also struggled to gain its warmth too.

Once he poked his head out he saw Bobby wheeling toward them with a tray across his lap that held two steaming cups of soup.

Bobby wheeled to a stop at the foot of the bed, "Wellll...you two didn't break yer legs...c'mere and gitcher soup!"

Dean and Sam exchanged only a moment's glance and then, like instinct, did what they were ordered to do. They tossed back the covers, grabbed their cups off the tray and scooted back under the covers again without spilling a drop.

Bobby huffed once but glanced back with a smirk as he wheeled himself toward the sink to drop the tray off and grab a cup of the steaming soup himself.

He wheeled himself over to the foot of the bed again, took a sip then setting the cup down on the arm of the wheelchair said, "So you had an eventful night last night I take it?" Which was his way of demanding an explanation of why he nearly lost the two most important people in his life... yet again.

Sam and Dean spoke at once, "It was supposed to be simple/easy." Dean growled at Sam, "It would have been if we'd known what we were really up against." Sam snarled at Dean "If you hadn't dropped your weapon..." "EEEnough!" Bellowed Bobby. "Now Sam what was your intel..." Dean made a move to toss the covers off and leave bed. And Bobby turned on him, "You just sit it back down boy until I say so, you hear me." Dean gave him a wounded look and retorted, "I gotta go to the can man." "Fine, and when you get back out you can put on your sweatpants and socks and get back under-capische?"

"I gotta go after him, Sam added, in a voice that made him sound like he was five again to Bobby's ears.

"Ok, ok" Dean smirked and tried to deftly move around the older hunter to the bathroom. Sam watched his brother's movements and thought he still seemed to move stiffly but continued with his recitation to Bobby of the research he'd done. "It was your typical Haint at the top of the lovers leap, so we figured a blast with rock salt and it would be over right? But we didn't know about the lost lover at the bottom whose spirit inhabited the tree. It would become animated and drown all those that survived the fall. Sam's voice fell to a whisper when he added, "It grabbed Dean."

Just then Dean emerged from the bathroom and Sam quickly threw off the covers but when he went to stand he nearly fell back into bed.

"Still woozy?" Bobby asked.

Sam steadied himself by gripping onto the headboard, "uh, yeah, a little I guess." Dean reached up and put his palm on Sam's forehead, "Still hot too." he pronounced. Sam pushed his hand away, and said over his shoulder with a smirk, "I thought that was always your line."

"Nothing but the truth Sammy." Said his over confident brother. Sam shook his head and looked up just in time as Dean said, "Heads up!" and tossed a pair of sweat pants at him. Sam made the one handed catch and then caught the socks Dean tossed him with his other hand. "Jerk" he said as he went into he bathroom.

"Bitch." Dean said to the closed door. But smiled as he said it.

"Don't know how lucky you are," Bobby's sober tone made Dean look up from his struggle to get his uncooperative legs into his sweat pants.

"Yeah, he means well," Dean answered sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his socks.

"Course he does, Sam always does but I don't mean that ya idjit," Bobby continued, "I mean what might have happened if Sam was the one that fell in."

Dean frowned, "I woulda saved him." He looked back at Bobby puzzled.

"Do you really think you woulda been able to keep ALL of him warm the way he did you? There isn't enough of you to wrap around that fevered body of his and what with his internal temperature on the whack. Would he even have survived the night after a brush with hypothermia? We mighta lost him, Dean. So go easy on the kid, he did the best he could with you considering the lack of resources in a place like this." And Bobby cast a disparaging eye at the camp style room the boys had picked.

Dean looked down at the floor. It hadn't dawned on him how close it had been, but Bobby was right if it had been Sam that had gotten that cold... and he started shivering all over again.

"What'd I say about stayin' outta bed?" Barked Bobby and that brought him back. "Yes, sir," Dean replied automatically and got under the covers. He had just picked up the cooling cup to his lips when Sam came out of the bathroom.

"No hard feelings?" he asked Dean as he slid under the covers.

"Naw, you did good Sammy." Dean nodded to him with a smile.

"Good, M'glad you feel that way coz... chicken soup always gives me the farts." Sam said sheepishly.

Dean rolled his eyes and turned to Bobby for help.

"It'll keep the sheets warm," smirked the older hunter as he wheeled himself over to the old TV.

"How long am I supposed to stay under here with the human bed warmer?" Dean asked.

"Until Sam's temp goes down and yours stays normal for a while, now you boys snuggle up..." Bobby said with a smile as he positioned himself a little further away, I'll be over here watchin' the game.

The End

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